


Well Now You Know

by consultingasshat



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mind Palace, Mind Palace John, moriarty is there too, sherlock realizes he's in love, sort of, there's not a happy ending I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 07:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5776231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingasshat/pseuds/consultingasshat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock takes a trip into his mind palace and accidentally discovers some things. Things about John. And his feelings for John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Now You Know

**Author's Note:**

> (The amount of symbolism in this fic is truly wild). So, we're just pretending like Sherlock hasn't obviously known that he's in love with John since they met. And I took some liberties with the mind palace, but it's all good. This is a sad one, though I might continue it someday, who knows. This fic was written for an anonymous ask on [my tumblr](http://consultingasshat.tumblr.com) that said "for the johnlock prompt--pick the book closest to you, flip to page 27 and find the 19th sentence. write a fic around this sentence". This sentence ended up being "I open the other window, still sucking on my thumb, and watch the dust motes swirl in the breeze and the sunlight, then fall back on my bed." from Carry On by Rainbow Rowell (go read that book. It's great.) I had lots of fun writing this fic, and I hope y'all like it!

Sherlock’s bare feet scuffed down the worn wooden floors of his mind palace, no particular direction in mind. He was wandering, just wandering, and he didn’t know where he wanted to go. So how, then, did he end up in front of the warm oak door that lead to the John part of his mind palace?

“Don’t open it.” He said to himself, low voice echoing off of the arched ceilings. His mind palace was cold today, and he could see his breath.

“Don’t.” he repeated, as his hand went to push the door inwards.

Warmth flooded through him as he stepped into John’s room, and Sherlock sighed. It looked different than the last time he had been here ( _ 3 months and 14 days)  _ and things were quite different. John’s room was the only room in his mind palace that changed drastically without him purposefully rearranging it, but that was alright. It was John, after all. 

Sherlock moved further into the room, the door thumping shut behind him. The room had grown smaller since he’d been here last, though it was still sizeable. The whole room smelled of tea and worn jumpers and gunpowder. There was a bed in one corner, and a soft couch in the middle of the room with pillows thrown onto it. A sturdy wooden table near the couch held many sorts of things, such as jam and a gun and various mystery novels. A bottle of Claire de la Lune. _Damn._ Sherlock moved towards one of the huge windows, opening it to let in the sunlight that always streamed into John’s room. He then moved to the table, fingering the gun before dipping his finger in the strawberry jam and sticking it into his mouth. He opened the other window, still sucking on his finger, and watched the dust motes swirl in the breeze and the sunlight, and then fell onto the sweater-style blanket that covered the bed. 

_ What had been in this room before?  _ Sherlock tried to remember. There hadn’t been any signs of Mary before.  _ Damn it, think.  _ There had been bees buzzing around, flitting in and out of the windows. Sherlock missed the bees.

“Hey.”

Sherlock startled up, confused by how John had been able to surprise him in his own mind. He stood a few feet from Sherlock, leaning against the table with his hand near his gun.

“Hello, John.”

“You haven’t been here in a while, Sherlock. Why?”

Sherlock looked at John’s face, the one that his own mind created for him. Perfect, down to the last wrinkle. And that patient smile he was wearing right now.

“You know why, John. You’re… you’re my own mind. I’m sure you know why.”

“Are you saying  _ you  _ don’t know why you decided to come here? Because I know why, Sherlock, and that means you know why.”

“Maybe not consciously, John.”

John’s face twisted as if he had taken a bite out of a lemon. He took a few steps closer to where Sherlock sat on the bed, his feet making no sound.

“You’ve got to know, Sherlock. You’re going to lose him and you’ve  _ got to know. _ ”

John’s face was right in front of Sherlock’s now, his smile manic. Sherlock backed up until he hit the wall, wanting to get away from this John.  _ His  _ John would never look like that, especially towards Sherlock. His hands grabbed at the blanket as John got closer, practically whispering onto his lips, and John’s voice was suddenly Moriarty’s and Sherlock couldn’t  _ breathe- _

“Is it sentiment, Sherlock? Is that it. Are you afraid of  _ sentiment? _ Because, Sherl, you know you’re too weak to push away sentiment. You  _ love  _ him, you love how human he is, how  _ brave,  _ your little soldier, but he’s loves  _ Mary and not you and you’ll never be-” _

_ “ENOUGH!”  _ Sherlock roared, the John who had Moriarty’s voice dissolving into smoke. He sat, shaking, his back against the wall and his knuckles pale against the blanket.  _ Of course.  _ Of course he loved John. Of course. He always knew that, didn’t he? But now he  _ knew.  _ It took his worst demon to make him aware of it, that he  _ loved John _ , and what was he going to do with it?

He ran out of John’s room, feet pounding until he stopped before the front door.  _ He loved John. _ Could he tell him? Could he do it?  _ Yes, no, maybe?  _ said the walls, and without hesitation he ripped open the door and let the light flood in.

Sherlock’s eyes flashed open and he registered his ceiling, then his wall, then his- _oh._ _Yes. Forgot about that. I- oh._

Sherlock’s eyes stung and he pressed his hands to his face.  _ Damn it. _

He let out a long breath.  _ Well, into battle, then. _

And he stood to begin putting on the suit he had chosen for his best friend’s wedding. 

**Author's Note:**

> Reminders: I am always welcome to receiving critiques, comments, carrier pigeons, whatever. And getting the notification on my email that I got kudos on my work gives me the same feeling that getting a text from my boyfriend does. Because I love writing and am a nerd (: I'm always open for flash fic prompts on [my tumblr](http://consultingasshat.tumblr.com) so if you've got something specific or even super vague in mind, hit me up there!


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